The Works and Accounts. When I set out, that was my goal. Not just a story every week, but also my own musings, tales about my struggles or lack thereof, and all the fun and terrible things that go with it. A sort of personal journal about doing the whole writing thing. Lately, I’ve been focusing hard on the works side of things and in doing so forgetting, or just putting off, the accounts. So, for those interested, a brief musing inspired by November. Just a warning, it’s a bit of a downer, so feel free to ignore it.
As per usual, I attempted National Novel-Writing Month over the course of November. As usual, it was an oddly cobbled together, fascinating work. Unlike usual, however, I actually finished the Fifty thousand words. See, normally I end up stalling out around twenty-five thousand, then after Thanksgiving I have two or so days of writing a whole lot, and ultimately end up vaguely around thirty-five to forty-five thousand words. I used to always say that my Nano ended around the New Year, because I’d take a week-long break, then keep working at it until I’d finished the book. There was a single exception, but that’s because my first draft of it was like five hundred thousand words. This year, though, I did it. And yet, once again, my Nano will be ending around New Years. Why: Because in no universe is any first draft of mine ever only 50k words. It just is a ridiculous idea. The closest I’ve ever come is Hunting Season’s 60k. Villainy, this years Nano shitshow, is headed for 75. Which begs the question, why? To be clear, I believe nano is a beautiful concept, brilliant for helping people who want to write actually sit down and write. I’m well documented in my belief that the only way to become a better writer is to write and write a lot. And this also isn’t the usual complaint about how busy November is as a month, what with school stuff for the younger people trying to be writers, and the family stuff with thanksgiving. No this is a question about why the number matters. And, if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t’ think it does. In fact, this year, I achieved the 50k bar set by the organization. Three years ago, I only wrote around 30k. I was busier, had a lot more on my plate, and was sorta dying at the time. Going back over what I wrote then, it wasn’t groundbreaking. In fact, it wasn’t even particularly good. And yet, at the end of November, I felt more accomplished with those 30 back then than I did with my 50 this year.
Now, I’m certain the first place some people will go is saying things like “Circumstances mattered,” or “You’ve grown more mature,” but anyone who knows me would tell you the latter is blatantly false, and the former is only true to a point. Sure, the fact that I did something was important, but remember, in my mind, I’d still failed. I hadn’t even completed the goal I’d set out for myself to do: not 50k words, but at the very least finish that infinitely long first draft. I’d gotten close, I was nearing the end, but it wasn’t done. So why did I feel accomplished then, you ask? I didn’t. The answer doesn’t lie in the then but in the now.
This year, I set out to write a brief, nice story in the month. Coming off of Hunting Season, my shortest garbage draft to date, I was confident I could do it. And yet, despite doing everything right, despite staying ahead of deadlines for most of the month, I didn’t. I made my numbers, but I didn’t achieve my goal. And in doing so, I realized my actual problem with Nano. It isn’t the time of year, because the point is you can always squeeze in the time to write, find the wholes in your schedule. It isn’t the bar they set out. Numbers are meaningless and worthless. It’s the novel part of things. Writing a novel is a struggle, a contest of wills. The idea one could write a draft for novel in a month is nothing particularly odd. I myself have talked to people who have written first draft over a couple of weeks. But the idea that everyone can write a first draft in a month is ridiculous. Because all stories have different lengths, and different densities, and take different amounts of your soul with them, dependent upon what you’re writing, and how you write, and why you’re writing it down. Writing 50k words in a month is reasonable. It’s hard work, but it can be done. Writing a novel in a month is possible. It couldn’t be particularly long, but it can be done. Expecting to write any number of words in a month is a good way to give yourself a goal for writing. I’d encourage people to do it every month (Though maybe not 50k a month, every month). But setting out to write a novel in a single month is setting yourself up for failure.
Sorry for the downer of a talk during the holiday season, but it was on my mind as I’m finishing off my novel.